


a sky reflected

by GalaxyOwl



Series: beloved [1]
Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Other, POV Alternating, a side helping of Tender Sky/Open Metal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyOwl/pseuds/GalaxyOwl
Summary: Relationships aren't always straightforward, even with destiny on your side. But Tender and Fourteen find a way.





	a sky reflected

**Author's Note:**

> a little while back someone on twitter was talking about soulmate aus and it just kind of got stuck in my brain so,,, here's this

_Oh. Hi._

Tender is well aware that her Words are painfully generic. They tell her pretty much nothing about how she’ll meet her soulmate, offer no real ground for speculation. It could be worse, theoretically; she’s heard of people who really do just have a greeting scrawled on their arm. Hers at least has that _Oh_ to wonder at. Not just a hello, but a surprised one.

Still, she’s had plenty of false positives. Enough that when Open Metal stumbled into the temple for the first time and spoke those words, she was already telling herself not to get her hopes up.

That didn’t stop her heart from pounding as she responded, “Hey. You alright?” A mundane response to a mundane greeting.

Open’s eyes went wide.

The rest is history.

You’d think that after everything that happened, Tender wouldn’t react to those words anymore. But apparently the instinct stuck with her, because now as an unfamiliar voice says them Tender can’t help the way her stomach lurches. She forces herself to ignore it.

She looks at the person in question, tries to size up the situation. “You must be my new coworker,” she says.

An expression flickers across their face that Tender can’t quite make sense of, and she wonders for just a second if _maybe_. But it’s gone as quickly as it comes, and then they just smile and say, “Yes, that’s me. Fourteen Fifteen. It’s nice to meet you.”

Of course, Tender already knows who her soulmate is, and she knows how well that ended. It’s ridiculous to even consider the possibility that this could be anything at all.

***

It’s the day after their first day in this new body, as they’re getting dressed in the morning, that Fourteen catches sight of the text on their arm.

Their Words are different.

This maybe shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is. Their words have changed in the past. (They had, hadn’t they? The words that had marked Tender as their soulmate when they first met had not been on all of Fourteen’s previous bodies. But they can’t seem to recall what, if anything, was.)

Tender was their soulmate, in one body, but she isn’t their singular, true soulmate, and that’s… Probably for the best, really. After all, she’s…

There was a reason that Tender being their soulmate was a problem. There _was_. They remember the panic. They’d spent a while assuming that that particular set of words meant that their soulmate would be another Castlerose assassin; as time wore on and their missions became more varied, they had also thought to wonder if it could be someone they met while undercover. But never had they thought to worry that it would be… There was… No matter. It doesn’t make a difference now anyways.

They try to push it to the back of their mind as they go about their morning, but it’s hard. _Are you alright?_ their Words say. A slightly worrying phrase to have, really. There’s no knowing what kind of situation must lead to it, but Fourteen can’t imagine any of them being wholly good.

Still, today is just another day. They go to work. They find themself in the awkward situation of having to explain their whole deal to Cascara and Signet. (Tender is, apparently, late. They try to tell themself they’re not relieved.) Fourteen had mentioned it vaguely before but they get the sense that the others hadn’t really believed them.

It’s an hour later when Tender Sky bursts into the break room and demands, “Are you alright?!”

Fourteen stares. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t dare to hope.

“Signet told me what happened,” Tender continues. “I swear to god, Fourteen, warn a girl next time you’re going to do something like that.” She stops. Fourteen’s stomach twists as they just look at her.

It’s Tender. Of course it’s Tender. It’s always going to be Tender.

“You okay?” she says again, looking at them.

Slowly, they pull up their sleeve to reveal the words printed there.

Tender’s eyebrows knit as she peers down at it. She looks back up and meets their gaze. “If you’re the same person,” she says, “then how does that…” She shakes her head. “I mean, mine doesn’t match. I’m sorry, Fourteen, but this isn’t even really our first meeting.”

“But it did match,” they say, stepping towards her. “Before...” They pause. (Is this true? Can they trust their own memory?) “I never told you.”

Why didn’t they tell her? There was a reason, they’re sure of it. They must have been nervous. They were nervous about meeting their soulmate, as is only natural.

“You never told me,” she echoes. “Fourteen, _what_?”

“I didn’t want it to complicate things,” they say, which feels true.

Tender runs a hand through her hair, lets out a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl. “Fourteen, how does waiting not complicate things even _more_?”

***

They don’t talk about it again until a couple of days later, when Tender broaches the subject as they depart the ship together. “I know this is weird,” she says, “but...” She doesn’t know how to end the sentence. It _is_ weird. This isn’t a discovery you’re supposed to make a couple months into working with someone. This is _supposed_ to happen at first meeting. But if there’s a chance that she and Fourteen are really soulmates, shouldn’t she do something about it?

“No,” Fourteen says, “you were right. We’re coworkers. It’s only complicated things.”

“Maybe a little complication is okay sometimes,” Tender says.

Fourteen sighs.

“Look,” Tender says, pressing onwards. “You should come to the Steady tonight. It could be nice for us to… spend time together, off-the-clock.”

Fourteen raises an eyebrow. “You think it’s awkward that we met at work and so you want me to come see you at your _other work_?”

Tender lashes her tail. “Well, when you say it like _that_...” She’s _trying_ , at least, and right now it feels like Fourteen really isn’t at all.

“No, I mean, I’m not against it, it’s just…” They laugh.

“Great,” Tender says. “I’ll see you at eight.”

And she leaves, before this conversation can get any worse.

Her mind wanders, that evening, as she sets up the Steady. She’s double-checking the architecture, the flow of the space, but all she can think about is Fourteen. She keeps replaying their first conversation over and over again, wondering why they didn’t say anything when she said their Words. Wondering why she didn’t say anything when they said hers.

Then it’s 8:00, and they’re still not here, and she’s dead certain they aren’t going to come, that by inviting them she’s only made the whole situation even more awkward.

Tender gets the ping as they log on at 8:07, and nearly falls off her stool in her haste to get up. She waves at them from across the room.

They’re still wearing that ridiculous gunslinger getup, and it’s… Well, it’s fine. (They smile at her, as they approach, and maybe it actually is fine.)

“Hello,” Fourteen says.

“Hey,” Tender says. “Can I get something for you?”

Fourteen orders a drink. They sip at it a the night wears on, as the conversation wanders.

It’s not like it was with Open. (God, Open—what the hell does this mean for what Tender and Open were?) With her, right from that very first meeting, everything felt easy and obvious and right.

This isn’t that, but it is… nice. Sitting here with Fourteen and chatting about work, about the Steady, about the new tea shop that just opened a block down from the docks. She could get used to this, maybe.

At the end of the evening, they both go back to their separate homes.

“We should do this again,” Tender says, and she means it, she really does. It’s just that the day after that they’re handed a case that leaves both of them with little free time, and then Fourteen has somewhere else to be the next night, and then the Steady gets a new explosion of costumers and Tender has to figure out how to rewire it to accommodate that, and suddenly it’s a week later without the two of them really talking about anything other than Beloved business, and then it’s been two weeks, three weeks, a month. They see each other at work, and that’s it. That’s enough.

Then Contrition’s Figure happens.

Tender knows Fourteen will be alright, but it is still kind of concerning that her coworker who also happens to be her soulmate just went and _died_ and she doesn’t know where they are for a few days straight. But… Fourteen is fine, in the end, and she’s only a _little_ angry with them.

And Worthy of Grace is… different. Which goes without saying, really. Tender understands how this works by now. But.

Worthy of Grace has a winning smile and a melodic voice and a gleam in their eye that is undeniably familiar.

They have a different wardrobe. The new version of Fourteen wears a lot of shimmering dresses and elegant skirts and they wear a lot of short sleeves, short enough to leave the words on their arm in view. (The same words Tender spoke the first time she met Worthy of Grace, when Fourteen showed up after a week of radio silence and all she could feel was relief. It’s the third time they’ve met for the first time, and Tender can’t believe she still gets their Words right but she does.) And as they and Tender walk, arm in arm, towards the dock for the Beloved’s shuttle, Tender can’t help but wonder if everyone they pass can guess that the two of them are meant to be.

They sit in the shuttle, and they go through Fourteen’s pile of fan mail. “Dear Worthy of Grace, I think you’re my soulmate,” Tender reads aloud, and Fourteen laughs. Their fingers brush as she hands the letter over to them.

“Your fans don’t know you’re already taken?” she asks, halfway rhetorical.

“Do they need to?”

“I mean,” she says, “I’d hate for anyone to get the wrong idea.” She means it as a joke, but it comes out sincere. Who do these people think they are, claiming to be Fourteen’s soulmate when they’re not? When _she_ is?

Fourteen’s smile doesn’t slip for a second. “Tender,” they say. “They’re not you.”

***

They were hired to kill Tender.

They were hired to kill Tender, and they _agreed_ to it, and this piece of paper in front of them is proof. But they can’t have meant it. Right? Surely? Not after they knew. And they certainly can’t do it now.

“You have a job, Fourteen,” Castlerose says, her voice low. “I expect you to carry it out.”

“But she’s...” They don’t say it aloud. Without thinking, they rub at the spot on their arm where their Words are, and Castlerose’s gaze follows their hand.

“Oh,” she says with a laugh. “I see.”

Fourteen’s stomach knots. “Do you?”

“I do,” Castlerose says. “The question, Fourteen, is how much _you_ see.”

They meet her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not really your body, after all.”

They understand well enough what she’s implying. They’re not sure if they believe her. For a split second, they think, _Maybe she’s right._ Maybe Worthy of Grace was Tender’s soulmate but that doesn’t mean Fourteen Fifteen is.

But Fourteen has had Words from Tender in every body since they met her. Castlerose doesn’t know that, they either know or hope. She doesn’t understand the scope of this, the sheer impossibility of every single one of these predestined firsts being coincidence. Fourteen does. Fourteen knows, with a certainty that feels like it could kill them, that they and Tender are…

Something.

“You’re wrong,” they say aloud. They don’t know _how_ it’s true. They don’t know how this body—that some part of them understands was meant to belong to another person entirely, a lawyer from Quire named the Body Politic—can have been meant to be soulmates with Tender Sky; where in the process it is that that text appears on their arm. But that doesn’t change the reality of it. Whatever essence of their soul it is that is connected to Tender’s, it’s contained in the data that’s transmitted from body to body. (A split-second nightmare of a thought: what if that part is the part that gets corrupted, next time? What will they do then?)

Castlerose shrugs. “It doesn’t make a difference. I hired you with the understanding that you were willing to do what it takes to get the job done, and I expect you to do it.”

They aren’t entirely sure that’s true—surely it was the agency that trained them to be that way, rather than the other way around?—but they don’t know how to argue. They clutch the contract in their hand and nod and think that, well, maybe it’s for the best that they leave all this behind, anyways.

***

There’s no question of the two of them going their separate ways. Signet has work to do and places to be now that she’s formally an excerpt again, but Tender and Fourteen have no reason to leave one another. And plenty of reasons to stay together.

They get a house, on Seneschal, on the outskirts of a tiny hamlet that has sprung up about a day’s walk from the Cadent’s residence and about an hour’s ride from the city. Fourteen makes the commute most mornings to get to their law classes.

Some days, though, they don’t go. Some days Tender awakes in the morning and finds them still asleep beside her, blonde hair splayed across their pillow. She closes her eyes again and listens to the sound of their breathing, steady and soft and even.

There’s no need to get up just yet. For once, the two of them have time.

They have the time they need for these slow mornings, and they have the time they need for eating meals together, for laughing and telling stories about the part of their lives that has so very suddenly become the good old days. (They weren’t really, Tender knows, but it’s easy to pretend.) They have the time for shared glances mid-conversation and they have the understanding of what the other means, every time. They have the time for sharing chores and gossiping about the neighborhood. They have the time for Fourteen to tell her about their studies and for Tender to tell them about how sometimes it feels like reality is unraveling around them. They have the time for long walks up the hill and long discussions about the state of the Mirage and long days spent just soaking up each other’s presence.

They have the time, one night, when Fourteen gets home late, and tired, and frustrated, for Tender to reach out a hand and cautiously push a stray lock of hair behind their ear. For them to look at her like she’s suddenly the most precious thing in their world.

She cups her hand against their cheek, and she drops it only as they step towards her. Their eyes meet, and they hover there a fraction of a second, their face so close she can feel the warmth of their breath, and then they kiss her, long and slow and soft.

It’s a good year, all said.

***

Figuring out sleeping arrangements on the _World Without End_ somehow winds up being a whole _thing_. It’s… somewhat ridiculous, in all honesty, and Fourteen can’t help but be glad that they have the excuse to stay out of it. This is their ship, and that means that they, and their soulmate, will sleep in the captain’s quarters.

The bed isn’t really intended for two people, but they make it work.

Sometimes, in the early hours of the morning, Fourteen will wake to find Tender still asleep beside them, and for a moment they can almost forget that they aren’t still in the house on Seneschal. They can condense their world into just this room, just this bed, and it’s like nothing at all has changed. The important parts are the same, after all.

But then they’ll hear a noise from out in the hallway, or a murmur of voices outside their door, and it will drag them back into the present. They’re on a mission. Or they just finished a mission, or they’re about to start one and the entire ship is buzzing with anxiety. Either way, there isn’t time for lingering. They take one last look at Tender’s sleeping form, and slip out of bed.

It’s not the same as it was, but it’s close.

***

“What are—who are you texting?” Open asks, and all at once Tender realizes that she doesn’t know about Fourteen.

She doesn’t _know_ about _Fourteen_.

They’re at the bar, and Fourteen is back at the room with Wind’s Poem, and Tender has other things to be thinking about, really, but for an instant all of that seems unimportant.

Part of her wants to tell Open all at once—get it all out there, announce to the entire _world_ that she is in love with Fourteen Fifteen and hey, Open, there was a fucking reason we didn’t work out and I think that maybe it wasn’t just because of the whole crime thing.

And then Open says, “Tender,” in the exact same soft tone that she always used to, and Tender doesn’t even know where to begin.

Their Words had matched. Tender doesn’t know if that means it was just a coincidence or if Open and Fourteen are _both_ her soulmates. Or maybe, she thinks, looking at the woman who was once her entire world, she’s Open’s soulmate but Open isn’t hers.

“Listen,” she says. “This—today has been—well, the circumstances aren’t what I’d call ideal? But it’s been great to see you again. The thing is…”

“The thing is?”

Tender’s tail twitches. “There’s something I guess I should tell you.” If she and Open are going to be on the same side again, she _has_ to tell her. So she does.

At first, she doesn’t seem to believe her. But once Tender has talked it all the way through, tripping over the details, the strangeness of her and Fourteen’s courtship—Open just goes quiet.

“I wish I were more surprised, Tender,” she says, after a long moment. “I wish that we...” She doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Me, too,” Tender says.

***

Synthetic beings don’t have Words. Not most of them, anyways. Although plenty of people opt to have them etched on _after_ meeting someone. Synthetic beings most certainly _can_ have soulmates; they can easily be the speaker of somebody else’s Words. (The same is true for Divines. At least, according to Signet.) Or they can have partners who are soulmates by their own declaration, rather than the universe’s.

Point being, Fourteen has no real way of knowing if Tender is still truly and objectively theirs. Maybe that’s for the best, though. If Grand leaves them for dead on the _Restitution of All Things_ , maybe it’ll be easier on Tender if she doesn’t have to know that the person she lost was her soulmate. (That isn’t the case and Fourteen knows it, but they have more pressing things to worry about at the moment.)

Grand does not leave them for dead, although maybe it would have been better if he had.

Regardless.

They make it out, their senses askew, their body broken. But they make it out. As they stumble off of the transport ship, they think that maybe the more familiar space should be a comfort, but it isn’t. It’s just a reminder of how much has changed since last they were here. Still, the world around them isn’t quite in focus; they don’t quite process Tender’s coming towards them, worry written across her face, until they hear her say, “ _Fourteen_!”

“Oh,” they say. “Hi.”

***

(But this is the image Tender will hold onto, after: Fourteen, still asleep beside her, blonde hair splayed across their pillow, their breathing steady and soft and even.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr & twitter @confusedbluesky if you want to come shout about tenfour with me


End file.
